■S't^;*';;^ :■■> . SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS \i iW^ V, THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES , ■..•". -v* •;4'^^^ ii;-'"-' ■' 9- 4e>^2^^C' onneis and yuatorzains BY CHRYS, M.A. (OXON). I've lightly touched on many a theme, And justice done to few, 1 ween ; But that's for you to say ! Faults I confess, and not a few, But still I'll dare to hope that you Will listen to my lay. PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR liY CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, LUDGATE HILL, LONDON, E.G.; AN'D E. M. & A. SYDENHAM, Bournemouth. ■=?i^ L*-?*? ^ d2u. (Tfirsr (rX!i.r 5'Ditnrts. Jcr. I DEDICATE TO "FAIRY." Nor let these halting lines offend thee sore ! If Homer sometimes nods, then if I bore Thee, only not too much, " immortal gods ! ' 'Tis gain, and what's the odds? ^(T -T/rw -M 9424i0 INDEX 5^ To the Reader Love of Nature an Incentiv to Verse . To the Lily Stonehenge " Cottage in the Dell A Dream Tvie Sabbath Sc^bro' Epirt;rean Song . Harlo\\ Churchyard Hymn tc Eros To the Snowdrop A Vision lona . Ben Cruachan A Prayer Randymere . To Charity . Streanshalh Abbey To Giordano Bruno O weary Heart of Man Stonehenge Midnight Where go we ? Whence came we ? Humanity . PAGE I 4 5 6 7 8 9 lO II 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25, 26 27, 28 Can it be True ? . Zoroaster Night Gautama Buddha Grange Mahomed . Heraclitus . To the dear Departed Oxford Indestructibility . Bournemouth Omnipresence of Deity Pythagoras A Prayer Persephone Spring Summer Autumn Winter Who Serve Thee Best Where shall We Worship Thee ? The Pine Tree The Past . QavuTOs The Daisy . Woman PAGE 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 ^ VI SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. May . Life . Branksome Chine Oban . Man's Four Ages Knowledge of God Sleep . The Storm . Night Scene To the Unknown To My Love To My Canary . The Ocean . Genesis of Universe God's Nature To the Primrose . To the Nightingale Remorse. Is there a Friend? Truth . Knowledge . 'Tis well with Thee El Dorado . March Song after Storm To F . Exitus omnium caliginosa nocte premit omniprudens Deus March 14, 1887 March 15 . Pessimism . A Suggestion Phoibos Apollo i'AGE SS 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 n 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 Plato . Hades Kosniic Spirit My Lady's Slipper Our Ignorance Bacchic Dance Hymn Spinoza Loch Rannoch . I^ove's Secret Prayer To my dear Sister Matter Mind . To Helen . Hampsfell Tower Dionysiac Worship Converse with Nature To a Fly To the Suffering Deity, Invocation to Nature, etc. Bacchic Song The Festival of Sorrow "Was ever Sorrow," etc. Easter Morn The Cross . The Sea Shore . To a Friend Absent "Venari, Lavari, Ludere Ridere ; oc est Vivere, To Nature ... Our Ignorance of the Un seen . The Gods of Old. PAGE 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 lor 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 no lit 112 11:3 114 "5 116 ^- ■i SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. vii PAtiK PACE Nature's Lover . "7 Revelation . . • 131 Symbol of God . ii8 The Day of Rest . , 132 A Prayer 119 The Future . . 133 120 To Ruthie . • 134 Marcus Aurelius . 121 Desire to see the Departed 135 Vernal Joys . 122 Time is Flying . 136 Consecrated Forms and To tlie Unnamable 137 Places . , 123 Deep Mind Soundin gs- 138 Is there no Balm? etc. 124 Love of Children 139 To the Gentle Spirit . 125 Egton Bridge 140 Regret 126 Glaisdale Moorside 141 Luhvorth Cove . 127 To my Nephews . 142 Man's Nature Social . 128 To the Dear Mother 143 Interdependence of all th mgs 129 To Walt Whitman 144 Kismet . 130 "If but one Word," etc. 145 "^W -!ik E R R A T A. Page 17, line 11, for " I " read Is. 62, 6S, 74. 76, 76, 88, 88, 118, :)' >' ' bear "' read tear. , 10, ,, "we" read //. 5, ,, " closer than a brother " read closer than brother. , 3, ,, " now " read //(7r. , II, ,, " scenes " read .«/(?/. , 14, ,, " love " read eot. , 13, omit colon at eml of line. , 14, there should be a comma after word " song;." , 12, for "e'en'' read even. 'Mi TO THE READER. ^fTCCEPT tliese efforts of my struggling Muse, ~~ That, spite of fleshly languor, strives to soar, And 'mid Apollo's golden rays to lose Herself in splendour, if perchance some lore, Slight though it be, of poesy might deign With me to dwell. Dear God, I'd freely give All that I have on earth this fire to gain : Then truly it were ecstasy to live ! Oh, make me Nature's lyre, that I may thrill Responsive to her subtle melodies ; And may mine eyes sweet gentle tears distil For all that suffers pain, and sins and dies. And all my years witli purest passions fill, 'Mid woods where hlies bloom 'neath vernal skies. (ik K LOVE OF NATURE AN INX^ENTIVE TO VERSE. V/TTHO can refrain from song that Nature loves? ^ ^ % Whose soul hatli thrilled with conscious ecstasies When day is o'er and evening gilds the skies, Or when through dewy grass at morn he roves. And breathes the fragrant air of woodland groves ; Or when, night's curtain drawn, the landscape lies Beneath the s.id moon's spell as home he hies, x\nd Ocean moans amid his shingly coves : Dead were his soul that never felt the spell ; Whate'er his rank, he's lower than the swain AVho, meanly born, }et loves to list at e'en To Throstle's song, as on the gate he'll lean, ^^"Ilile waters murmur down the leafy dell, And salmon leap the falls fresh haunts to gain. ^' SONNETS AND QUATORZAIXS. TO THE LILY. HERE dwells the alchemy that can transmute The shapeless clod into a lily fair ? "What sculptor's hand the Godlike task may dare, Of lifelong toil the guerdon and the fruit ? 'Tis vain to look for answer ; all are mute ! They neither toil nor spin, nor any care Their simple lives doth darken, yet they wear Robes of transcendent beauty. Does their root From the dank earth such matchless fragrance gain, Distilled by Nature's secret chemistry ? Or is't the work of sunshine and of rain? Tis one and all ; yet if alone they try To mould thy snowy chalices, 'twere vain: " Without a (lod to guide, we fail," they cry ! ^^ "j« ^t: -^ =;J^ SONNETS AND QUATORZAlNS. STONEHENGE. *7irP0N yon breezy hills yclept the Plain Of Salisbury, vast fragments stand or lie, Huge monoliths and trilithons that vie In their rude grandeur with whate'er remain Of that far-distant epoch. Ah, whit pain Was theirs who formed yon circles, and on high Those imposts raised with many a weary sigh And fervent prayer lest all their toil were vain ! Whoe'er those builders were, they raised a shrine To great Apollo consecrate, I ween, As, spite of all objections, you'll divine From this : that o'er the Gnomon he is seen To rest, full-orbed, at summer's solstice time, And bathe yon prostrate stone in golden sheen. ^" B "COTTAGE IN THE DELL." EEP in a bosky dell the cottage stood, Screened in the leafy June from curious eyes By wealth of foliage, yet the glad surprise Of blue-wreathed smoke betrays its neighbourhood To travellers seeking rest in wearied mood. White roses deck the porch, while jasmine vies With them in perfume, honeysuckle tries To twine its tendrils through the trellised wood ; A babbling brook the drowsy air doth thrill With lullabies that scarce could fail to woo The coyest slumbers, while the turtle's coo Completes a subtle charm that seems to fill The scene. Around, the hills umbrageous swell — Fit spot were this for Innocence to dwell. ^ l^ SONISTETS AND QUATORZAINS. A DREAM. ETHOUGHT I wandered through a forest lone, ■^ Whose giant oaks their spectral shadows cast Across my path, stirred by the fitful blast, Their gaunt limbs swaying with a dismal groan (O'erhead a crescent moon in splendour shone) ; Unearthly whispers scared me as I pass'd. And doleful sighs that struck my soul aghast, As some lost spirit would its sins atone. Fear urged me backward, lest some magic spell Should chain me captive in th' enchanted grove ; But when I turned to flee I stumbling fell, Caught by the tangled roots, and though I strove To rise, 'twas vain. Then, lo, a piercing scream Of fiendish mirth I woke ; it was a dream ! THE SABBATH. E^AIR Day of Rest, thy Godlike calm how blest 1 Earth's rude turmoil is hushed, and solemn awe Steals o'er our souls, as if e'en now we saw God's awful Majesty, nor any rest Our conscience gives for wrong yet unredressed. The angry word that broke God's golden law Of charity, all unobserved before, Now stands revealed a sin our hearts detest. Give me, O God, such searchings on this day. Such revelations of mine erring heart. That I in sin's dark thrall no longer stay. But, choosing even now the better part, Flee from her treacherous wiles without delay. Lest I sleep on until the word, "Depart!" '^ S0.VKE7S AKD QUATORZAINS. SCARBRO'. 'Tj|T\VAS ev'ning on thy waters, peerless queen ! Thy castled clifif glows in the ruddy light Of the fast setting sun, whilst every height Gives back his splendour flush'd incarnadine ! Beside thy circling shore's a dazzling scene : In 'wild'ring maze glide through tlie gath'iing night Fair dames and maids in fashion's armour 'dight. And cavaliers of gay and martial mien ; Soft winds play 'mid the trees, and gentlest plash Of waves that lave thy walls strikes on the ear, And all the air is full of melodies And hum of voices till the twilight dies ; While on the Bay the vessels far and near (iild the daik billows with their warning tlash. K EPICUREAN SOXG. v^ATHER ye rosebuds when the day is young, Drain the full cup of pleasure while ye may, Ere chill winds blow and flow'rets fade away, And Phoebus, who through earlier hours has flung His golden rays the dewy grass among. Withdraws their splendour. Then 'twere vain to pray The fleeting hours their headlong course to stay — Then keen regret is felt for joys unsung. So revel we in meads where crocus blooms, And leafy dells where limpid waters flow, Crushing the od'rous hyacinth as we go, Flushed with mad chase of some coy nymph 'mid glooms Of ilex groves, or circling beat the earth. And echoes wake with Dionysiac mirth. r^ ^ — tK lO SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. HARLOW CHURCHYARD. '/Ifr^PON a slope 'neath Harlow's lofty brow, God's-acre lies, fronting the western sky, The barren moors and purple hills that lie In the far distance. Sombre scene, I trow, When black clouds veil the sun, but when, as now, Bathed in his dying splendour, it may vie With aught beside. O'erhead the dark pines sigh, Stirred by a gentle wind, like lover's vow So softly breathed ; while in the glen below. The throstle trills his love-sick melody. Ofttimes I wonder if those resting here Care for his song, or joy in sunset glow And rustling pines, or if they truly lie In sleep that has nor waking hope nor fear. W T\ HYMN TO EROS. y1f\IGHTY art thou, O Eros, lord of all ! ^^'hat can defy thy will's imperious sway? E'en the minutest atoms do obey Thy stern behest, yielding at passion's call, And rush, regardless of whate'er befall. Into each other's arms without delay, And, losing separate being, ever stay Blended and interfused beneath thy thrall ; Save when, seduced by spell more potent still, Their bonds are loosened, and affinity Is free to act again, for good or ill. But when weak man's thy prey, great Eros, fill His heart with never-changing love's employ. Lest what is atoms' sport his peace destroy ! TO THE SNOWDROP. YW'HE circling year can show no fairer scene """ Than when ye bloom, sweet harbingers of spring ; Dark Winter's bonds are loosened, and ye bring Glad dreams of brighter days, when Earth, I ween, Shall deck herself in vernal garments' sheen. Ye are the first-fruits of the year ; we'll sing Your praise with rapturous joy ; the glens shall ring With mirth, while youthful bands trip o'er the green To bid you welcome. Ah, how chaste your form ! Sprung from the shapeless mould a vision fair. Of loveliness and maiden modesty, But all too frail to bear life's cruel storm ; And yet methinks such innocence might dare To brave the darkest hour's malignity ! A VISION. TW'HE Earth is waxing old, her children cry ; Her form is not so fair as erst of yore ; Her voices fainter seem than e'er before : The Earth is waxing old ; soon she will die, While men, her noblest offspring, helpless lie (Whom in her amorous youth to Jove she bore, 'Mid lightning's lurid flash and thunder's roar). Is there no God to hear their feeble cry? Her flowers have ceased to bloom, nor any Spring Doth deck her form with verdure as of old ; The lark no longer carols on the wing, No throstle 'mid the leafless groves doth sing, Nor waving corn wax golden on the wold : Pale famine feeds on man ; his tale is told. ^ lONA. LONE isle, whose adamantine rocks the wild Atlantic surf eternally doth lave, Thy rugged hills are hallowed by the grave Of many a king and chief, and hermit mild. Who sought thy refuge, hoary Ocean's child, Worn by the world's harsh din, though strong and brave, And 'mid thy tempest's roar and dashing wave. Found peace and healing balm for hearts defiled. The times have changed, but are we better grown? Good God, we know the turmoil and the strife ; For us the awful law, " Reap that thou'st sown ! " For us the thorny path with danger rife ; Might we not then, 'mid Nature's wilds, alone. Find strength in prayer, and for our sins atone? ^ik >ii£ SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 1 5 BEN CRUACHAN. ETHINKS I see thee now, thy giant form In bold relief against the northern sky ! Like some huge sentinel, whose sleepless eye O'er yonder lake, in sunshine and in storm, Keeps watch and ward, and doth his task perform Eternally. About thy neck there lie The fleecy clouds pressed lightly, while on high Thy haughty pinnacles disdain the storm. Ah me ! if only, 'mid the storms of life, Its doubts, temptations, dire perplexities, I might, like thy twin peaks, rise clear of strife. And breathe e'en now, 'mid earth's iniquities. The vivifying atmosphere that's rife With high resolve and noblest charities ! ^ 7\^ 1 6 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. A PRAYER. GOD, how frail this heart of mine ! a slight Temptation oft allures me to my fall, And though remorse doth torture, and I call On Thee for pardon, and for strength to fight, Like to a faithful soldier, for the right, Yet my resolves are shattered, and the gall Of bitterness enshrouds me like a pall, Till Thou the darkness scatter with Thy light ! Shall I be ever thus, a wayward child. And leave Thy narrow path, by pleasure lured, Draining its baneful cup in revels wild, Unmindful of the bitter pain endured By One from sin to save ? O Master mild ! Raise me e'en once again, though sore defiled ! ^^J '^ SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 1 7 RANDYMERE. /X'IRT in by dreary moor and barren hill, A lonely tarn doth lie, whose darkling wave November's sickly sunshine scarce can save From brooding gloom. Silence the air doth fill, Save when some swain his scattered flock with shrill " Halloa ! " would gather, while his dog doth rave Around, and all the echoes wake with brave Alarms that o'er the sullen waters thrill. Such inroads on its solitude are rare ; Oftener the startled pewit's cry alone I heard, as circling round she skims the flood. Full of a mother's yearning o'er her brood ; While in yon clump of pines, whose branches bear Perennial foliage, gentle breezes moan. ^»' D TO CHARITY. ^'VVEET Charity, I pray thee with me stay, And all mine hours with kindly deeds employ, And gentle words, and love without alloy. And earnest prayers for all by night and day — If but, dear Lord, Thou wouldst their griefs allay. And turn their night of mourning into joy, And all their sins and ignorance destroy, I would forego all hope of bliss for aye ! Sweet Charity, first of the Graces thou, That never failest, and doth all things bear; Thou art not easily provoked ; no vow Thou need'st, I ween, to take, nor garb to wear ; Thy deeds spontaneous flow, and, come what may. Thine is the triumph, spite of long delay ! M SONiXETS AND QUATORZAINS. 1 9 STREANSHALH ABBEY. M'NE abbey by the sea, thy stately shrine Crowns the dark summit of yon stormy hill ; Though 'reft of half thy splendour, thou art still Fairer than all the castles of the Rhine ; Thy shattered turrets, storm-swept, drenched with brine. Yet brave the northern blast with stubborn will : Thoughts of thy vanished fame ne'er fail to thrill Mine heart with righteous anger at the crime That laid thee low. Oft when the day is o'er, I seek thy solitudes, where silence dwells, Save for the seagull's cry and ocean's roar; Then fancy wakes, and lo ! the anthem swells All down thine aisles, while from the western door Monks seek their daily toil till vesper bells. M^ ^, TO GIORDANO BRUNO. THOU of dauntless brow, whose fancy soared Through heights subHme, and with thine eagle eye Didst scan the secrets of Infinity ! Oft through night's silent hours entranced thou'st pored On these dark problems, and in soul adored The " Eternal Monad," in whose unity Both immanence and high transcendency, With subtle skill, in harmony, are stored. Thy genius did foreshadow many a truth, And Aristotle from his throne cast down ; Such fearless teaching earned the Church's frown : She brands thee "Atheist," and knows no ruth — Thou'rt cast in dungeons, and the flames for thee Are lit, bold martyr for Philosophy ! ^: O WEARY HEART OF MAN ! WEARY heart of man ! in every clime Thou dost the great Beyond in fancy gild With tend'rest hues. Thy stormy life is filled With expectations of a better time, When wrong shall righted be, nor any crime Fair Nature's face defile, but anger stilled For aye. Such halcyon days God willed. Ye say, to dawn upon our old earth's prime ! Begone, vain dreams, and rouse ye for the fight; 'Tis not the future, but the pressing " now " That calls for all our wisdom and our might ! Then gird God's armour on, with solemn vow Ne'er to retreat while strength is left to wield The two-edged sword, or bear the glitt'ring shield. ^" 2 2 SOJVNETS AND QUATORZAINS. STONEHENGE. \ YSTERIOUS relic of a distant past, What eye beheld your awful fabric rise ? Whose was the subtle brain that won the prize, And built thee from his plan, for aye to last ? Whence came the ruthless blow that ruin cast Upon thy pride ? and were there no wild cries, No hands imploring lifted to the skies ? In vain, alas ! Destruction's cruel blast I'ell unrestrained ; and now, like heroes slain, Your giant corses strew yon barren heights, And fill with nameless awe the trav'ler's brain, Musing within himself what secret rites " Were held in the dark precincts of thy fane, What words were heard, and what the mystic sights. r^ MIDNIGHT. TT is the witching hour of night ; the town Lies steeped in slumber ; all the winds are still ; A waning moon doth climb o'er yonder hill, And shed her rays across the streets and down The squalid courts, where gloomy houses frown. Yon sluggish Hood the midnight air doth fill With drowsy splash of waters where the mill Stems its dark tide, while pollard willows crown Its dewy banks, and o'er the ample stream Gaunt shadows fling. Beside its mossy wheel The old mill stands, with ivy clustered o'er; Bathed in the wan moon's light, it seems to steal Across our fancy like some fairy dream ; Upon its ruined roof the owlets snore. ^ ^: 24 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. WHERE GO WE? 'HENCE have we come, and whither do we tend? No thoughtful mind such questions can avoid ; Enigmas dark they are, yet that doth lend A fascination which has never cloyed. Earth's many faiths have each essayed to raise The veil that doth Life's subtle secret guard, Flashing before the Initiate's dazzled gaze Visions of retribution and reward 3 But, after ages fled, the earth grown old, We still remain incredulous, and ask The selfsame question, only to be told That 'tis insoluble — a futile task ; But have we wisely sought ? shines there no light From saintly souls that triumphed for the right? SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 25 WHENXE CAME WE? OW to the question of the Whence; we'll try To state it fair. Do souls then pre-exist . From all eternity — can they subsist Through the Ionian future else, I cry? Stern logic doth compel but one reply — If souls immortal are, they were, I wist, Ever the same ; if born in time, they've missed All such proud claim, and shall most surely die. Reject this latter, then we must explain Where the souls were through all the ages past ; Did they in simple nakedness remain, Or were they incarnate? their fortunes cast 'Mid other scenes, and is't their deed again That through our life doth blossom joy and pain? WHENCE CAME WE? {conlmued.) ^YW'IS plausible ! and for the nonce we'll lend An ear. This life shall be one single link In a vast chain that ne'er began, nor end Doth ken. 'Tis true our dazzled eyes shall blink At such bewildering immensities ; The Karma of all incarnations past Hath bound us captive, spite of all our cries, While we the turbid current onward cast, And future generations influence For weal or woe. And shall this fail to curb Our stormy passion and unruly sense ? Here, too's, a clue to questions that disturb. That can life's inequalities and pain, Its sickness, poverty, and wrong explain ! ^ ^ = SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS, 27 HUMANITY. HUMANITY, thy sacred name doth thrill A chord responsive in mine ardent breast; Thy sin and misery and wrong oppressed The saint of old, and doth with anguish fill Our hearts, reflecting that this earth is still The scene of untold pain and crime — not rest Her weary children find, though sore distressed, And worn with hopeless toil and cares that kill : While in our ears their mournful cry doth sound, How can we linger, and in folly spend The precious hours ? are we not surely bound By holy ties of brotherhood to lend Our wisdom and our strength to heal this wound. And in our prayers to wrestle for that end? HUMANITY {continued). I^S there a heart so cold as not to thrill With bitter pangs, when musing on the fate Of those who, born 'mid misery and ill. Have scarce one feeble chance to quit that state ? There's none to take their hand and show the way, But all around lie squalor and disease ; They have no sweet green fields in which to play. But foetid courts stirred by no healthful breeze. Shall we, whose lot is cast in pleasant ways, Who breathe pure air, and wander as we please In woods and flowery meads through summer days, Not strive to brighten these sad lives, and ease Their heavy loads, and shed some golden rays Of hope for aching hearts and feeble knees ? CAN IT BE TRUE? j^AN it be true, that when we come to die, Our fate is fixed, or weal or woe for aye ? With no rehef, nor e'en the faintest ray Of hope, that after ages past the end draws nigh, But agonising pains eternally. While others nectar quaff through endless day, Nor mar their joys by thought of friends away? It is not true ! For God is love, we cry ; Did we not enter life without our will, O'erburdened with the Karma of the past — Inheritance of mingled good and ill? Ofttimes the latter doth its shadow cast O'er our brief years ; and is't for taint of blood That we shall burn for aye ? No ; God is good ! ^ - — 30 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. ZOROASTER. HY shadowy figure looms from out the haze And mists of long-gone centuries — some claim That there were two who bore thy sacred name. Be that as may, we hold that thou didst raise Iran from superstitious grov'ling ways, And point him to the purifying flame And fervid sun as symbol of that name Of mystery, " Ahura-Mazda," praise ! Thy brethren's gods thou didst dethrone, and made Devas and Daevas, and the earth for thee Was an arena vast, on which arrayed The hosts of light and gloom, unceasingly Fierce conflict wage, until the fourth age sing Ahriman vanquished, and Bright Ormuzd King. ^: SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. NIGHT. TAIL, brooding Night! dark source whence all things are ; 'Tis thy prerogative to nourish thought And high resolve, and fancy's flight that far Would soar, and learn the lesson that thy stars have taught. Prolific darkness ! from thee too there flow Foul deeds of crime ; o'er many a mournful scene Of sin and misery and hopeless woe Thou dost in pity draw thy friendly screen. " Two things there be that fill my soul with awe — The Moral Law within, the heavens o'erhead ; " So Kant averred ; and since the first man saw Thy starry canopy, and wond'ring sped To tell his brethren, earth's ambitions seem Empty and vain, all its rewards a dream. 32 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. GAUTAMA BUDDHA. TAIL, gentle master of the fourfold truth! Vast pity filled thine heart for all that dies And suffers pain and loss. Thy word supplies A cure for all the ills of age and youth. Existence is a curse; and pain, forsooth, Is bound with it for aye. The secret lies Revealed; cut off desire, Trishna, that ties Us to the wheel of births, our way is smooth ! This teaching was for all, the poor outcast As well as Brahmin proud ; thy law of love, And gentle pity for the meanest life, Spread through the world and knew no cruel strife O'er half the human race its sway doth last, Though now corrupt, its mission's from above. w- GRx'\NGE. 'fij^AIR spot that nestles 'neath thy shelt'ring rock, On whose steep slopes the graceful larch is seen, While looming vast above its tender green The crannied limestone shows, and seems to mock With its sheer steep all hold of root. No shock Of bitter northern blast invades, I ween. Thy sweet secluded dell, nor east wind keen Doth chill thy groves and nip their budding flock ; But through thy trees soft southern breezes sigh. And Phoebus loves to bathe thee in his rays. Home of simplicity ! what blissful days Have we not spent amid thy fields, that lie Pied with sweet cowslip and a thousand flowers ! E'en now thy beauty woos me to thy bowers. ^- MAHOMED. ^HILD of the burning waste, whose sinewy form, Bronzed by the eastern sun, and streaming hair. And eyes with inspiration ht, that dare To look Death in the face in war and storm, Ne'er fail imagination's fire to warm With dreams of mighty deeds beyond compare Thou shalt achieve, and hope of triumphs rare, Which thou shalt gain o'er Giaour's hosts that swarm Thou hadst a mission to perform with fire And sword ; Earth's faith had grown emasculate. Its foul Idolatries aroused thine ire. "Allah," the Omnipotent Will, doth hate Hypocrisy and lies ; submit entire To His all-wise command, or meet thy fate ! HERACLITUS. TJiy'HY subtle mind did on existence muse, Striving to find its essence. Such deep tiiought Won thee the name of Dark ; few ever sought Thine abstruse lore, while those who did, refuse To follow out thy teaching, but they choose So much as helps their system or hath caught Their fancy. Thy doctrine of the "Flux" they brought To aid their scepticism — far other use Than thou didst e'er intend — while indolence Held them from reading of those harmonies In the relations which, in spite of sense, A something stable gave mid all that flies ; While all this "Flux" might blend, nor equal quite One slight pulsation of tlie Infinite ! 36 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. TO THE DEAR DEPARTED. 'EN now I scarce can think that thou art gone ; Thy dear flimiliar form and silver hair, And face that with love's radiance ever shone, Still seem to centre in thy favourite chair. Alas ! how sore we miss thy genial smile And gentle word, and all thy loving ways. Oft o'er the glowing fire thou wouldst beguile The hours with memories of long-past days, Or read with kindly voice whate'er might please — A page of history, or merry tale, Or hum'rous anecdote, that might regale Our fancy, and from morbid thoughts release ; Thy soul was pure as that of little child. And from thy face it shone whene'er thou smiled ! OXFORD. ^ROUD city of my dreams, thine image ne'er Can from my memory fade while life doth last. What though those golden hours have long since passed When I thy cloisters trod in hope and fear? Yet musing on thy joys, I'll drop the tear. Thrice blest is he whose lot for life is cast Amid thy groves and stately halls ; no blast Of this world's foolish scandal need he fear ! But all his years, like thy fair streams, shall glide With intellectual pleasures gilded o'er : His hours the muses cheer ; whate'er betide He hath a lasting solace in their lore ; While if he yearn for rest, yon silvern tide Shall coyly woo him with the flashing oar. INDESTRUCTIBILITY. I^OTHING that is can perish utterly, But only suffers change, and doth put on Fresh forms. The flickering flame, 'tis true, has gone From sight, but to the scientific eye Equivalents of gas and moisture lie, Proved by experiment. As in the long Since past, some daring thinker would his throng Of eager pupils teach, " Eternally Matter hath been, although a thousand masks 'Thas worn" — thus much his metaphysic taught, But now its counterpart has science brought — " Force, too, is indestructible ; " one asks Is not this force equivalent to Will Or Spirit that the Universe doth fill ? ^ ^ 7i BOURNEMOUTH. J^OW shall I sing thy praise, fair favoured spot, That nestles 'mid thy hills and silvern groves Of fragrant pines ? From out thy dense alcoves Bright villas peep — 't has been my happy lot To dwell amid thy shady nooks, I wot, Through two glad winters. How my fancy loves Thy chines where rhododendron blooms ; thy coves Where gentle wavelets curl ! There's not One charm, slight though it be, that e'er shall fail To fill my heart with joy ; cold winds may blow. But they who dwell with thee need fear nor hail Nor snow ; but through thy pines there whisper low Murmuring winds ; o'erhead the lark doth sail. His song is wafted on thy balmy gale. 40 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. OMNIPRESENCE OF DEITY. Y CANNOT flee from Thee, howe'er I try. If to the farthest verge of space I'm led, Thou'rt there ; if in the grave I make my bed, Thou'rt there. Height, breadth, and depth cannot defy The Hghtning glance of Thine all-piercing eye, But shall reveal e'en secrtts of the dead. All things of Thee are full ; if Thou e'er fled From the minutest atom, all would die ; Nay, e'en within my breast I'm not alone — Thou'rt there, and dost thine awful verdict pass On all my deeds and thoughts and words. Alas ! No sin wilt Thou e'er miss, nor fault condone, Thou Omnipresent God, who knowest all : Have pity on our souls whene'er we fall ! PYTHAGORAS. UBLIME philosopher, who early taught The secret of the sky, and Phcebus gave His throne, while circling planets lave In his far-darting beams — this truth was brought From Indian sage, I ween, whose lore thou sought ! Number, proportion, was thy clue to save The Kosmos from a dark chaotic grave — Such teaching was with pregnant meaning fraught ; But who shall tell of thy sublimer dream Of spheral music that all space would fill With harmonies — or of thy wondrous skill In tracing back the course of that vast stream Of birth and death ? Perceptions cbange — for thou This universe eternal held, I trow. A PRAYER. UT of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O God, my fathers' God, mine only hope In life's unending strife ; how shall I cope With the dread foe, unless to Thee I flee For strength in hour of need ? I have no plea To urge, save that I'm weak, and down sin's slope, That's broad and smooth, but for Thine arm I'd drop. Great God, from such dire peril rescue me ! And may this season bring my sins to mind, How dark they are, and grievous to my Lord ; Nor let me comfort or relief e'er find. Until in penitence I have implored. With many a tear, forgiveness. Then how kind Thy pard'ning smile shall beam on me restored 1 m- PERSEPHONE. F all thy lovely myths, fair Greece, who'll say That aught can rival thine, Persephone, Child of great Zeus and Demeter. With glee In Nysa's sunny meadows didst thou play With Ocean's daughters through the summer day. Plucking bright flowers until the pleasant lea Was cleft asunder, and Aides, he Of many guests, spite of thy cries, away Did bear thee to dark Pluto's realm, as queen To reign ; yet not for aye, but in each year. So the All-father willed, two-thirds, I ween. Were spent amid thy mother's flowers. Then drear Plutonian halls for one brief third detain Thee on thy throne, unwilling queen, again ! 44 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. SPRING. GOD, how can I wander o'er Thine earth Bhnd to the beauties that Thy lavish hand Hath showered around ? In spring, when leaves expand, Urged by the rising sap to glad new birth, When flow'rets bloom and fill our days with mirth, Who can unmindful be ? O'er sea and land A richer light is poured. The clouds demand Our wonder as on high they float ; no dearth Of cause for joy, I ween ; whilst through our frame We too are conscious of a quick'ning life That stirs tumultuous. Ah, who can tame The fire of youthful blood? Is not this strife U'ith our unruly passions e'er the same Throughout all times? 'Tis Nature ; who's to blame? j^ SUMMER. 1YWWAS noontide of a summer's day. Yon grove, That with its silvern pines o'erlooks the glade, Wooed me, oppressed with heat, to seek its shade. And breathe its healthful fragrance, ere I rove Through westering sunshine farther. Fancy wove (Whilst 'mid the scattered cones I mused, afraid Lest aught might break her spell), and made Those gorgeous visions that my soul doth love. It was a stilly hour; nor voice of bird did wake The heavy air, but drowsy hum of bee That, cloyed with sweets, did flutter languidly From flower to flower ; cicalas make Their sleepy music in the trees around ; Below cool waters murmur — pleasing sound. 46 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. AUTUMN. J'ELIOS, with his fierce scorching ray, Is fled, and graceful lao doth reign O'er fertile plains and clust'ring grapes. The swain Girds him to lusty toil through autumn's day, Whilst down yon trellised vines that deck the brae Fair maids and youths, 'mid silvery laughter, stain Their hands with ruby juice. Anon the wain Waits for its load, while steeds impatient neigh. But when their work is o'er, with merry jest And circling dance they hail the evening hour On village green, whilst in yon golden bower Some love-sick lad his secret tells — confessed Long since by glance and pensive air. Kind night Her friendly curtain draws to hide the sight. ^ r^ SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 47 WINTER. ^AIL ! season of robuster joys, whose spell Hath tamed all nature ; e'en the boist'rous stream That yesterday all angry foam would seem, Now mute and lifeless lies, bound fast and well With icy fetters ; while in yonder dell The loch, waxed cold beneath thy sickly ray, O Sun ! doth yield reluctantly, I ween, To tliine embrace, chill Winter. Who can tell ^Miat cruel pangs were felt, ere yet with cry It did thy sway confess ? The echoes soon With boist'rous mirth resound, as fair nymphs fly On the curved steel past its steep banks, and ply Their graceful art with matchless skill. The moon The while looks down and smileth tenderly ! ^= 48 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. WHO SERVE THEE BEST? HO serve Thee best? He who in cloistered cell Through night and day, with fasting and with prayer, Doth strive to save his soul, and earn some share Of future bliss? Or he who ne'er doth tell His beads, nor mumble outworn creeds, nor spell Of mystic cross doth use, nor garb doth wear Of any sacred order — yet he'll dare To dwell 'mid sin and foul disease as well ! And there to spend and be spent for mankind — Yielding his all of wisdom, strength, and wealth, If but perchance he might some sister find. And win her from foul sin to her soul's health. While deeming this reward enough to gain. For weary nights, and ceaseless toil and pain ? WHERE SHALL WE WORSHIP THEE? HERE shall we worship Thee? Where anthems ring Down storied aisles in dim cathedral shrine, While white-robed choir and priests in vestment sing, And prayers are drawled with intonation's whine ! 'Mid incense-cloud and organ's melody That now doth swell tumultuous around, Anon doth melt away and seem to die, Whilst all our soul is ravished by its sound ? Is this Thine hallowed spot, and naught beside? Or may we worship on the old sea-shore, By foaming brook that through yon wood doth glide, Impetuous to mingle with the tide. Or on some mountain peak where tempests dwell Eternally ? Pray tell me, is this well ? H ■^ THE PINE TREE. (r^'PELL me the riddle of thy runes, O pine! ~ What dost thou murmur through the summer hour ? What of those wilder strains, when winter's shower Doth madly rage? Speaks there some voice Divine Through thy weird notes, as in far antique time Dodona's oak possessed prophetic dower ? Thou whisp'rest lullabies ! Anon with power Tempestuous swells thy music : one line. Prithee, decipher me : what dost thou know Of those primaeval days ere man appeared Upon this planet's stage for weal or woe. When thou didst learn thine art, and heard The sons of God together sing ? Ah, no ! Thou wilt thy secret guard, nor heed my word ! THE PAST. fj'H, who can think on thee and fail to sigh? Thy joys a fragrance left that still doth last ; Thy pain doth torture yet ; tliough long since past, Thy sins bequeath their bitter legacy ; Thy good doth live and blossom fruitfully. We are what thou hast made us ; binding fast With adamantine chains, the Fates have cast Our present to Thy past, spite of our cry. Well sang the bard that " Bitter sorrow's crown Was the remembrance of a happier time I " May we not add that joy, though long since flown. Rings in our mem'ries with gladder chime, As o'er our fires we dream : nor angry frown. Nor think it folly, then, to muse in rhyme ! — 1 ^ 52 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. OANATO^. ^AIL! sweet, pale Death! what beauty can compare With thine ? Life hath her potent charms, but thou Dost add a something far more rare, I trow — Thy touch transmutes the dross to gold. The fair Yet fairer grow beneath thy spell, and wear Such chaste and heavenly beauty, that we bow Our heads in awe. Ah, who doth thee endow With power to cure all pains and banish care? Come, then, still Death, with thine encircling arms, And clasp me to thy breast, like wearied child In dreamless sleep : and sweeter far, I ween, Than e'er mine eyes did know 'mid life's alarms ; What though our lot's been toil and pain, we'll deem It all as naught, in thine embraces mild. M SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 53 THE DAISY. 'EE, modest flower, that was our childhood's joy, And doth delight the eye where'er we stray, Though oft thy praise is sung, yet I'll employ My feebler muse to chant for thee a lay. Though there are flowers possessed of perfumes rare, Their petals steeped in hues of richer dye, Yet will I love thee still, and ever dare To sing thy praise, wee, modest golden eye ! Oh ! for the days when we were wont to roam Through meadows pied with buttercups, and thy Fair flowers. How swift those halcyon hours would fly, Bringing the evening all too soon ; as home Reluctantly we wend, with daisy chain Around our neck, or dragging in our train. ^ ^ = 54 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. WOMAN. OMAN ! thou noblest work of God, to thee We owe all that we are ; the future lies With thee, fair arbitress of destinies ! Woman, wife, mother — sacred trinity. Ideal purity, to thee we flee. If thou shouldst fail to save frail man, he dies With faintest ray of hope. Eternities Such self-denying love may never see. Man cannot stand alone ; he's incomplete ; In thee he finds his complement and crown ; His boasted reason often leads his feet Far from the beaten track, in depths to drown Which it can't fathom. Intuition's light Is thine unerring guide through doubt's dark night. rl^ SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 55 MAY. ^YWIS May, and soft winds breathe o'er hill and dale, AVafting sweet odours of a thousand flowers ; Dame Nature wantons 'mid her leafy bovvers, And defdy decks her robes with wind-flowers pale, And hyacinthine blue. The balmy gale Doth wander down the glade through noontide hours, And stirs the gaudy daffodil that towers Above yon stream, whose music fills the vale : Beyond, deep-meadowed, lies the village church, And clustering round beneath the old elm trees, The low thatched cots ; o'erhead the noisy rook The echo wakes with caws — one bold doth perch Upon the steeple's dizzy height, and look From coign of 'vantage o'er the pleasant leas. ;^ 56 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. LIFE. "Y^ECIPHER me this mystery, thou man In earthly science skilled : Is life the cause Of organisation, that doth its laws Obey? does it co-ordinate and plan The movements of germinal matter? can You my dark mind illume ? or is't because 'Tis property of matter? Dost thou pause Perplexed for words? What, can't thy science scan So far? Life springs from matter — sayest thou so? Does not this substance organised imply A something prior, that controls the flow Of molecules, and doth, too, unify Their movements, that they vibrate to and fro So fast, nor more? Wilt thou, proud man, reply? BRANKSOME CHINE. LOW murmurs of the restless sea ascend To where I muse, 'mid rhododendron grove That towers o'erhead. Below, in shady cove, A lone lake lies ; dark pines their shadows lend Mirrored in its still tide, steep cliffs defend It from intrusion. Spot where bard might rove At eventide, and drink his fill of love Of his fair mistress, and his ardours spend In song. A pleasaunce rare it is — one isle. Lost in wealth of foliage, decks the flood ; Birds love the dell, and evening hours beguile With melodies that echo through the wood. Roam where I niay, thy charms shall never fade From memory, Branksome Chine, thou fairy glade ! ^ >ix 58 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. OBAN. [^AIR city of the isles, endiademed With circling hills, when doth thy beauty show Most rare — at summer's noon, when all aglow ^^'ith heat ? or when the moon's pale light hath streamed Upon thy waters, and thine islands beamed A fairy vision, white as driven snow, And distant mountains caught the spell, and lo ! Thy bay like sheet of burnished silver gleamed? Truly this earth is fair, and thou may'st vie Wiih her most dainty charms. Thy cliffs are crowned With ruined castles, and thy lochs that lie Embosomed 'mid the giant hills around, Are miracles of beauty; Ossian's song, So grand and wild, still sounds thy hills among. MAN'S FOUR AGES. AN hath fout ages, like the giant tree '^ That doth its grateful shade extend for all. 'Tis so with nations too ; they rise and fall, They have their infant years' credulity. Their youthful ardours and maturity, Then comes decrepit age — the funeral pall Doth close the scene. At Destiny's stern call New races come, for mutability Is the inherent law of human things. The oak for ages lives, the nation lasts Perchance for many centuries ; man sings The threescore years and ten, which Fortune casts Into his lap — what matter years a score? Tis thoughts and deeds make life or less or more. 60 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. KNOWLEDGE OF GOD. J'OW shall we speak of Thee, Eternal One? Can we, the finite, gauge the Infinite, And dare define Thee in our creeds as quite This, and no more, with empty words that run All glibly on — vain iterations, spun By 'wildered brain straining to reach such height? A fiitile aim ! Our eyes the dazzling sight Can't bear ; they fail ere their high task is done. Truly Thou art " the Unknown God," but we Can tell at least this much — Thy power doth wake For righteousness and truth eternally. " It seems Thy newest will that we forsake All foolish speculations as to Thee, And of the world Thou'st given the best should make." ^: SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 6 1 SLEEP. 'ELCOME, sweet Sleep! pale Death's twin sister thou ! Kind renovator of our wearied frame, Come with thy soothing balm, whilst in thy train Troop airy visions that thou canst endow \\'ith witching beauty, or with terrors now As in wild dance they riot through the brain. Welcome thy glad Nepenthe , if but vain Its healing draught, 'tis elixir, I vow. For some brief hours, and gifts the sick with health- The sad all gladsome beam. Thou blessed Sleep, If thou dost work such wonders, what a wealth Of solace doth await us when we steep Our sense in Death's oblivion ! If thou Canst yield such bliss, she will not fail, I trow ! 62 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. THE STORM. 'ILD Spirit of the Storm, whose streaming hair The western heaven o'ershadows, thou dost ride In awful majesty athwart the wide Expanse of sky; thy serried legions dare To charge in fury o'er the hills, and bear The giant oak that their onslaught defied, From its firm base, and hurl it in the tide That boils beneath yon crags. What force thou'lt bear, Pent up in thy dark bosom, gathering storm ! Thy rage doth ravish me with ecstasies ; Am I not kin to thee ? My spirit vies With thine in turbulence. I'll deeds perform, Under thy spell, that 'neath all calmer skies Were vain ; upon thy wings I'll ride, proud storm ! W NIGHT SCENE. VVHOIBOS his regal course hath run, and all The western sky is flushed with rosy light And tender primrose, while impatient Night Her rustling wings doth spread. The soft dews fall, And bats wild revels hold in ruined hall, Scaring benighted travellers with rude fright. The hooting owl doth perch on some lone height. And wake the echoes with its scream. The tall, Gaunt poplars rustle in the fitful breeze That wafts faint murmurs of the distant sea Far inland. From yon dell, 'mid clustering trees, Sweet Philomel his music o'er the lea The livelong night doth scatter; all around Our ears are haunted by the landrail's sound. 64 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. TO THE UNKNOWN. Y friend — for such I'll call thee, though I know Not thy name, nor thou mine — our eyes have met, And if the spoken word be wanting, yet Who'll dare affirm that thoughts can pass by no More subtle channels than, when clothed, they flow In language yclept winged ? My fancy's set On this, at least — thou'st told me thy secret — Trouble has been thy lot ; its cruel blow Thou'st borne all meekly, and thy soul's refined In its fierce furnace. Thy face doth tell Of a kind, gentle spirit, that's resigned To all thy Master sends. 'Tis ever well With simple, trustful natures. May'st thou find Thy future crowned with bliss, till vesper bell. I TO MY LOVE. CANNOT fathom love so deep as thine, Sweet partner of my joys and pain; it flows All inexhaustible and clear, nor owes Aught to self-interest. From source Divine It springs, I ween, and doth like ivy twine About its object ; nor shall cruel blows Lightly destroy its hold. It all bestows, Nor seeks return. Tell me, canst thou define This as the work of molecules, O man In science versed? can Matter's laws explain This self-denying, all-surrend'ring love ? Hast thou not said that int'rest is the plan On which all nature works, that all is vain As motive, save what's pleasurable ? This prove. TO MY CANARY. ipf AIR golden bird, whose melodies beguile "" Our thoughts through many a dark winter's hour ! Though thou hast ne'er known freedom, nor in bower Hast warbled at thine own sweet will the while, Yet, pretty creature, thou dost ever smile, And teach us lessons of content. What flower That blooms in spring can vie with thee ? Thy dower Of song spontaneous flows ; naught doth defile Its purity. Sing on, sweet birdie mine ! Thou lov'st to bathe in the sun's golden rays, Thyself as bright as they. Who can divine What feelings thrill through thine ecstatic lay? Thy mercies seem but small, thy life's brief time Monotonous — the same from day to day. SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 6] THE OCEAN. T" LOVE thy changing form, thou boundless main — Thy summer calm, when 'neath Apollo's beam All radiant with dimpling smiles thou'lt gleam, Whilst thy waves break in silver, with refrain Of gentlest lullabies. Who'd think that pain Thou wouldst e'er give, that dost so gentle seem ? Yet who shall doubt thy power, or idle deem Thy growing rage, or that thy threats are vain ? Let him who does observe thy wintry mien, Thy crested billows that destruction cast On all around — the staggering bark is seen Borne high aloft for one brief space — the blast Hath rent her sails — anon she rolls in trough, 'Twixt thy vast mountain waves: then who shall scoff? ^: GENESIS OF UNIVERSE. ^HIS universe — was it by chance it came, Evolved from clashing atoms, or by thought Of the Eternal Monad made from naught? Or is't an emanation from His flame Through infinite gradations, by the same To be absorbed at last? Or have they taught Aright, who say 'tis eternal (though fraught With contradictions in our minds) ? The name Of Aristotle lends its lustre here. That we should spring from chance were miracle Indeed. Small blame if we this pinnacle Of folly scorn ! Creation too appears Inconceivable. Emanation seems. Perhaps, more plausible : some light here gleams. ^J == SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 69 GOD'S NATURE. [^OW shall we think of Thee, Eternal Mind? Thou'rt unity and multiplicity; Thou'rt immanence and yet transcendency ; h In Thee we live, and move, and being find.; By Thee all things subsist; Thy word doth bind The countless worlds that fill immensity. All is in Thee, yet art Thou wondrously Distinct from all, and higher far defined. The ancients wisely spake of Thee as Zeus Whene'er they viewed Thee as transcending all This universe of matter ; but they'd call Thee Dionysus when in ruby juice Thou wast the vitalising force, that flows In all that buds and blooms, and love's joy knows. ^ 70 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. TO THE PRIMROSE. ^j^ALE yellow flower, that decks the banks in spring, ~~ When soft winds play amid the deepening grove, Whilst all the air with skylark's song doth ring, And our hearts leap for joy as on we rove ; — How can I sing the hours of merry glee That we would pass in those dear days of old, Plucking thy petals o'er the verdant lea, With many a jest and echoing laugh that told Of light young hearts, that knew nor grief nor pain ? Alas ! how fare they now ! Ne'er can I see The meads resplendent with thy gold again. But visions throng upon my memory, That make my soul full sad. Who can explain The subtle links of mind's captivity ? TO THE NIGHTINGALE. ^'WEET Philomel, can I forget those hours In merry May, when first I heard thy song At eventide, the fresh green copse among, Whose trees o'erhung the sluggish stream like bowers ? The night was still, 'neath vitalising showers 'I'he woods had donned their daintiest robes ; along The lane I strolled, where hawthorn blooms; its strong Seductive odours filled the air. The Powers Propitious were, and lo, thy dulcet notes Swelled through the woods in waves of melody ! I stood transfixed and mute with ecstasy, Then leant upon yon gate, and joyous wrote Some lines in praise of thee, sweet nightingale, Fair queen of Song, Luscinia of the dale. i^ j^ 72 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. REMORSE. Ti^'HE thought of what I might have been, my soul Doth vex with unavailing pangs, nor may I quaff Lethean draughts, nor for one day In sweet obhvion rest, nor any dole Can earn exemption, but my ceaseless role Is gnawing anguish. Ah ! will none allay My thirst with but one drop ? Yet who shall say That I'm unjustly plagued? What gloomy ghoul Can fright me like to conscience? — 'tis a fire That inward fiercely burns unquenchable. Material flame seems naught and bearable With this compared. The vain desire To live life o'er again with fairer fame, Poor wretch ! were't possible, thou'd do the same ! I IS THERE A FRIEND? S there a friend that's dear to me 'fore all Beside, with whom I converse hold, whose look Doth strength and comfort lend, on whom I call In hours of sin and pain ; who ne'er forsook Me, but closer than a brother clung — who'd dare To die, if need, for me, nor deem it pain, But joy supreme? Dwells such compassion rare As this in human breast? Who can refrain From praise? But greater far to die for foe — That were unique, I ween — an act Divine, A miracle of love, that can but flow From the Eternal Source of things sublime ; And shall it fail to fill my soul with woe, If such self-sacrifice unheeded go? -^ TRUTH. • T[(^S Truth monopolised by Church or sect, Beyond the ken of those who in the fold Now dwell, nor seek her by the path correct And orthodox yclept by men of old? Or is she, heedless of such feeble chain, Broad as the limitless expanse of sky, And free as air to those who'll suffer pain And toil to see her face all willingly ? 'Tis surely so : no priestly pride dare claim Sole right of access to her shrine, I trow ; Such arrogant assumption would but gain Our merited contempt. 'Tis altered now ; Men seek for Truth untrammeled, nor again Shall they for fearless teaching suffer pain. ^^ -^ SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 75 KNOWLEDGE. LL knowledge is phainomenal, I ween, And relative. The senses and the mind Between the real and ourselves you'll find, Perchance, like some unequal mirror's sheen That distorts images — its nature seen Mingled with theirs ; to Noumenon we're blind. This world of ours true being lacks, the wind Is not more fleeting ; 'tis a ceaseless scene Of becoming — 'tis, and 'tis not — a dream. The work of Mayas' enchantment, a veil That shrouds our consciousness, a flowing stream. An optical deceit, an idle tale ; Thus Plato wrote of Cave, where shadows frail Men took for real, as on the wall they'd gleam. ^ 'TIS WELL WITH THEE. ^yW^S well with thee, my friend, at close of day, Thy labour o'er, thy duty done, thy powers Well used, thy mind at rest ; — sleep dowers Thy wearied senses soon. Ah ! who shall say Thou art not blest beyond the rich, that lay Their pampered frames on down, while dark Care cowers Beside. Wealth cannot give such peaceful hours : They come from honest toil ; nor ever stay With him whose nights are passed 'mid revels wild In haunts of vice, whose taste depraved has grown. Who finds not pleasure in sweet rural scenes, But loves the heated hall whence Virtue's flown. Thou art not so, but, born fair Nature's child, Thou still dost care for her in peaceful love. ^ SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 11 EL DORADO. HERE lies the land for which thy soul doth long— The El Dorado of thy dreams and sighs? Is it beyond the sea that boisterous lies Between two continents, the plains among, Where men delve gold ? or do thy hopes belong To Oriental lands 'neath burning skies ? Or is't some summer isle thy fancy spies, Set in a purple sea, where wood-nymphs' song Doth linger in the balmy air for aye. And life is ecstasy ? Or dost thou dream Of some ideal state where all the day Thou'lt walk 'mid academic groves by stream That placid flows, while philosophic minds High converse hold, and reason surfeit finds? ^ MARCH SONG AFTER STORM. 'ERNIGHT the March winds blew with angry power, Strewing the woodland path with fragrant cone, Lashing the sea with might. At morning hour Their fury spent, the dark clouds onward flown, Phoibos the earth doth cheer with golden rays. I wander forth and seek the safe retreat. Where 'tis my joy to pass spring's sunny days Sheltered by groves of pine, whose music sweet Lulls all my sense. Below, a restless sea Breaks o'er the tawny beach with rhythmic sound That falls upon the ear all fitfully ; Balsamic exhalations breathe around. 'Tis here I woo the Muse of song, nor may I wholly fail to win Her smile, I pray! TO F . "^AVE we ne'er met on some bright flowery isle Laved by Egean waters, long ago ? Wert thou Apollo's priestess fair, the while I sought his oracle in bitter woe, And heard from thy sweet lips kind sympathy That sent me joyous home ? Full oft again Thy shrine I'd seek for one brief glimpse of thee, If but the Fates were kind ; nor oft in vain My quest, but ere the morrow's sun had set, Thine haunting image would compel my feet Back to the temple's height, with joy that yet Left me athirst for more, and all too fleet ! Can I forget that hour of rapturous bliss, When Nature sealed our union with a kiss ? 80 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. EXITUS OMNIUM CALIGINOSA NOCTE PREMIT OMNIPRUDENS DEUS. ^yWlS well for us poor mortals, that a veil — An all-wise God doth o'er the future draw; Whate'er the morrow brings, if we foresaw Its store of pain and ill, our hearts might fidl Of their fixed purpose — all our joys would pale, And life become unbearable. This law Of ignorance is truly kind. No flaw It doth allow in present bliss. No gale Of coming weal or woe disturbs our rest. Then seek not prescience — 'tis God's alone — But rest content. " Whatever is, is best." Thine is the present ; naught can e'er atone For it if missed. Then seize this fleeting day — Trust to the future little as you may ! SONJVETS AND QUATORZAINS. 8 1 MARCH 14, 1887. ^^J^IS one of the charmed days; Apollo sheds His vivifying light all lavishly Around. The flowers their petals ope, and try To drink their fill as through the heavens he speeds In majesty. Expanding buds he feeds With his actinic rays : a deep blue sky, That's flecked with scarce one fleecy cloud, doth lie O'er all. The sea like burnished silver spreads Its face all dimpled with a thousand smiles ; Ecstatic joy broods o'er the land. The air Is pure and light ; it frees our minds from care, And sends our pulses bounding. Naught defiles Its virgin sweetness. Gentle Spring hath come ; Her beauty glads mine eyes where'er I roam. y^' — t^ MARCH 15. ^yWWAS yesterday I joyful sang of Spring, And hailed her advent, as I thought ; but, lo I The scene is changed, and wintry winds and snow Now chill our frame and nip young buds ; we fling Protecting mantles on once more, nor sing Our glad hymns longer. Birds will leave, I trow, Their woodland haunts, alarmed, and shelter now They'll seek near home of man: the storm doth biing Them to his door for aid. The rivers rise, Swelled by the falling snows ; huge trees they'll bear On their impetuous tide. The meadow lies Submerged : o'erhead the heavy sky doth wear A murky pall. The angry wind now sighs Through the bare copse. The traveller home doth fare. ^ PESSIMISM. "TS Life per se rich prize, that we should tight With greedy haste to gain ? or is"t esteemed All lightly by the wise ? I ever deemed This latter true. Are Pessimists, then, right Who preach its worthlessness and mournful plight- That in extinction only we're redeemed ? Such knowledge sure poor consolation seemed ! That life is hell, and that the sweet, still night Of absolute extinction terminate This hell ; that in all things the impulse deep Is but the will to die — the highest fate The thought of that eclipse : nor use to weep — Whether we wish or no, relentless Fate Will force us onward o'er Non-being's steep. A SUGGESTION. 'VS'T true that, as this earth doth indicate By alternating strata, history Of all its changing scenes' totality, Man's organism, too, doth truly state By its succeeding layers that correlate Past actions of itself and ancestry — The mysteries that shroud heredity, The raisofi d'etre of its peculiar fate? Things tend, they say, to equilibrium. In which no further change is possible ; Each force that is transformed adds to the sum Of partial fixation, demonstrable : All conservation by our memories Of past impressions' trace illustrates this. m -^ SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 85 PHOIBOS APOLLO. HAT wonder is't, indeed, that mankind made Thee, orb of day, fit symbol of a god? In Eastern lands thy majesty's displayed In all its dazzling splendour. They who trod Those scorching plains would know thy kingly state Full well, I trow, and dread thine angry power; Thy dying glories, too, and splendid fate, Could not but thrill their hearts with awe. The hour When thou didst rise as victor in the fight With Ahriman, was hailed with rapturous glee. Thy names were many — Dionysus hight In lands Semitic; but the Aryan thee Apollo termed — Zeus, Aides, lo, Helios — changing as the seasons flow. ^ B PLATO IVINE philosopher, whose wondrous mind, Like some huge mountain summit caught the sun And flashed its radiance around ; we find E'en now thy thoughts a mine of wealth, which none Can idly pass. Thy doctrine of the soul, That 'tis akin to the unchanging sphere Of ideas, it's life beyond control Of things material, would e'en appear As Christian teaching 'Tis not per se Immortal, save as it partakes, I ween. In the Divine nature ; mortahty Were else its lot. Thou wouldst such teaching deem A hope, not dogma, IXttiq fjcyaXr], Yet counting it, I trow, no mere fond dream ! I B IM, unsubstantial realm, where phantoms glide Across the path with noiseless tread ; thy halls Echo with hollow laugh that scarcely calls To mind Earth's lusty mirth. Whate'er betide, Thy pallid spectres languidly abide, Nor feel true joy nor grief. "The sternest thrall Above were better than as king o'er all To rule below," so said Achilleus, wide Though thy dominion be 1 The Hebrew feared Thy gloom, lest he should lose those powers of praise That made life Jahveh"s gift Sheol appeared A place of silent gloom. The Greek thy ways Abhorred, for life he loved 'mid beauty reared. And sweet pure light, Apollo's golden ravs. ^ ^ik ~ — ——^^ — __— — _ . — \_^ 88 SONI^ETS AND QUATORZAINS. KOSMIC SPIRIT. TjjTHE balmy air is redolent of thee; Thou'rt in the lusty sap and deepening bower ; Thou'rt in the quickening light, and 'tis thy power Strikes through thick blood, and fills our hearts with glee. We seek some woodland glade, great Semele, Where, joining hands, we'll dance the sunny hour 'Neath fresh green canopy, while many a flower Shall lend its perfume. Our glad hymn shall be In praise of thee, great mother, and thy son, I'he mighty Dionysus, who doth bound 111 dance and stir in blood; that wondrous o.ie Who warms in sun, in glowing stars is found, ^\'ho cools in breeze, without whom naught is done : In merry song "Iakchos!" shall resound. ^ '- >^ MY LADY'S SLIPPER. V OW sweet the task to clasp those dainty feet, i- All snowy white and cast in purest mould ! Not e'en the skill of Pheidias may compete With such surpassing symmetry ! The cold Marble beneath his master-touch refused To body forth such loveliness, I trow ; Yet thou to their embrace art ever used, And dost such priceless treasures guard, I vow, As if 'twere naught, forsooth ! no honour rare. Proud dignity, which is reserved for those More favoured few that Beauty dubs most fair ! 'Tis ever thus ; the highest fortune goes All unesteemed, I ween, when long possessed ; Her choicest gifts are lightly held at best. M ^Jt 90 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. OUR IGNORANCE. OW are we girdled round with mystery ! What know we best— ourselves, or outer things? Ourselves, you'd say, I trow. Reflection brings Some element of doubt, e'en here. Just try Explain the Ego's genesis, and why We're this, not that ; in vain the answer rings "Heredity," and "Adaptation" sings! The difficulty's but pushed back thereby. Self-consciousness, how came it forth, and when? Such silence tells of sheer perplexity ; Our being's riddle lies beyond our ken, 'Tis plain. As for ISIateriality, This outer world, I mean, some little, then, We know, perchance, but our wealth's poverty. BACCHIC DANCE HYMN. 'ASTE, ye mountains, from your fastness 1 sun and f Seasons, stars and fountains, quit your places ! Join our chorus with knit hands and wine-flushed faces, Circhng swiftly where the flaming altars stand ; Flutes are breathing, dance ye with our merry band. Soon our mirth grows fast and furious, paces Madden ; mighty Bacchus ! lead the races ; Wilder still, and orgiastic, all the land Is rudely shaken. Elelichthon thou Art surnamed : chant we now thy birth and glory, Nor forget thy dire afflictions ; 'tis a story That thy votaries love to talk of. Thou'lt endow Our limbs with vigour, lest we faint, and fall Exhausted. All the night " 16 ! " we'll call. ^- 92 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. SPINOZA. ^ELT. spake Novalis when he called thee Intoxicate with Deity. Thy mind Most clearly did discern that naught can bind The Infinite, but it must wander free Through all things. Remorseless geometry Did this conclusion draw : God, thou defined Thought Absolute ; the sole truth you'll e'er find — All else illusive seemed, unceasingly. Bodies and souls are modes, their substance God. They are but temporal, eternal He ; He, too, conditions all — the senseless clod, And more exalted thought. Inex'rably He doth develop through infinity Of endless attributes, in myriad modes. kl LOCH RANNOCH. AIR lake, embosomed 'mid the shadowy hills, Down whose vast shaggy sides fierce torrents roar, Thy tawny waters break upon the shore With ceaseless murmur ; great Schiallion fills The foreground with o'ertowering form ; the rills Have furrowed his vast front in days of yore. His topmost peak is veiled, white mists steal o'er His ample shoulders, and soft rains distil. Beyond thy heaving billows mountains rise. Huge sentinels that guard thy western bounds Full well, whilst mid their fastness Glencoe lies. That vale whose silence once with horrid sounds Was desecrated, while the victim dies By treacherous hands — foul murder knew no bounds. -^ 94 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. LOVE'S SECRET. 'IT'VE lingered in thy sunshine, gentle maid, For one brief hour; thy dark eyes held me bound In sweet captivity, and lo ! I've found My secret solved. I can no more evade This fact of love ; my wearied soul I've laid At thy fair feet. Thy voice is like the sound Of rippling waters, and thy form hath wound Itself about my soul, and ne'er shall fade From memory. It seems but yesterday When first we met beneath the nodding grove ; Beside the winding stream, where gorse-bush, gay With golden bloom, doth deck the banks, I rove At May's sweet evening hour — thy. fluttering cloak Betrays thee, like some Dryad, 'neath yon oak. PRAYER. OST subtly interfused with all around, Environing this wondrous universe, A Presence lies, whose being hath no bound — Immutable, sublime. Shall we converse, Finite with Infinite? He knoweth all, E'en secrets of our hearts, and preordains Whate'er betide. Can we, the helpless, call On such an One in hours of need ? our claims Are slight, I ween I Is't impotence of mind Aught to demand of Him who sees our thought Before we ask ? We wander like the blind, And know not where to turn : our life is fraught With weary care. What, were we vainly taught To look to Thee for aid ? We'll deem Thee kind ! ^fk ^ TO MY DEAR SISTER. Tr KNOW full well thy soul is beautiful Beyond all earthly dream, for I have seen Thy face, transfigured by its light, I ween, Shine with a radiance most wonderful ! Thou'rt ever fair ; but in that moment's lull Heaven's spell was on thee with mystic sheen ; Thy charms transcendent grew. Such light miglit gleam In the blest Virgin's face, when dutiful She heard the word Divine high promise give. Or when her gentle Babe with mother's love She yearned o'er tenderly ; that He might live She willingly would die ! My fancy wove Some rare celestial scene that thou didst grace With thy sweet presence and angelic face. 9i^' rife MATTER. Jp^HIS mystery of Matter still defies Our utmost efiforts to explain. We know That 'tis not dead — mere v\>] — that the wise Were wrong in deeming it as spread below To be support of forms, forsooth ! 'Tis clear, As Leibnitz taught, that it's dynamical ; No more a dull, dead thing it doth appear, All but instinct with life, a miracle, The promise and the potency of all ; Stripped of its ancient nakedness, I trow, And clothed with attributes that we may call Quite spiritual. For high science now Doth view it as the living garment fair, Of the "Unknowable," a vision rare. N -^ 98 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. MIND. UT who shall read thy riddle, wondrous Mind? Thine essence doth elude analysis. In philosophic treatise we shall find ThouTt parcelled out in varied faculties, But of thine inner being naught they'll tell. Art thou composed of matter more refined ? If so, what's matter, pray? Art spirit? well, Define its nature, then. Is not "the wind" Or "breath" its meaning? If thou'rt matter, how Shall we explain this miracle of thought? That molecules vibrate is true, I trow ; To bridge the gulf 'twixt thought and motion's fraught With difficulties, which defy our skill ; We have no organs that such end fulfil. j I ! ^ — ^ SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 99 TO hp:len. 'INTER'S dark days would flush with summer light, If thy bright presence deigned with us to dwell, While summer's noontide splendour were as night Bereft of thee, sweet Helen ! In yon dell, Where, set like some rare gem, the stately towers Of Rievaulx stand, its crumbling walls (o'ergrown With clustering ivy) rising from green bowers ; What blissful time we've passed, in years now flown! Beneath a cloudless sky, on grass-grown mound, We sat and quaffed the ruby wine, the while Our thoughts went back to far-off days — the ground Too sacred seemed for boisterous mirth. Thy smile Did but intensify the spell, the sound Of thy loved voice with music filled the aisle. HAMPSFELL TOWER. ^^HERE is a tower on Hampsfell's lonely height, To which I oft resort at close of day, And while the darkness deepens, watch and pray Until its spangled canopy the night Spreads o'er the hills, and Luna's witching light Their rugged peaks illume; then homeward stray, My soul with visions filled : upon the bay Shimmer pale silvern paths — a wondrous sight ! Such hours of exaltation make this life, Its cares and foibles, small and foolish seem — All feverish haste for wealth, ambition's dream, Empty and vain appear; earth's bitter strife Disturbs us not, in such sweet solitude Our spirits soar aloft in rapturous mood. ^ DIONYSIAC WORSHIP. I^'OME, we'll worship at thine altar, dark-eyed Stranger, Kissokomes, whom nymphs nurtured. Life thou grantest to thy votaries ; when defied, Thy countenance alters —Janus-featured Thou appearest, fierce to mortals ! Antheus Breathes of skies all sunny, flowing streams and Flowery meads, corn and oil, and purple juice Of grapes that cluster. Pyropos the land E'er scorches, and thy vigour, how it changes To the raging bound of wild beast. Savage Art thou, dread Omestes, thy cult ranges O'er the East ; thine enemies thou'lt ravage ; Furious inspiration flows from thee. Thy frenzied mind can pierce futurity. :^ 1 02 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. CONVERSE WITH NATURE. 'HENCE comes this subtle spell Nature doth cast Over our mind ? If she were not akin With us, how could she move us thus and win Our hearts' o'erflowing love, that e'en shall last Till life itself shall die? No wintry blast Can damp its ardours ; 'tis perennial spring Within, and doth to Memory's vision bring The fresh green meadows of our happy past. Can Mind have converse with aught else than Mind ? Answer, ye seers, who with fair Nature hold Communion in woods, or on the wold Or by the lake her mystic presence find — Is she not living? Is it not her thought Ye read us, telling only what she's taught? ^ ^J: SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. TO A FLY Which had rested on the ss. Victoria when off the Needles on the way to Southampton, April \2th, 1S87. 'HAME on me, if I harm thee thoughtlessly, O tiny fly ! who with thy goss'mer wing Hast braved the gale, and ventured fearlessly So far from home. A cruel gust will fling Thee in the drowning wave ere long, I fear. Unless some kindly providence its shield Extend in pity. But I'll hold thee dear. For art thou not God's creature too ? Concealed In thee there throbs a portion of the life Universal, that doth all things sustain, Without which nothing were ; shall I deprive Thee of this mystic power with bitter pain, And foully stain mine hands? or shall I hold It something sacred, with the wise of old? I04 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. TO THE SUFFERING DEITY. ELL did the ancients tell of deities Who in the strife with evil seemed to die, And yet triumphant were, eternally Rising again. Such truth reflected lies On Nature's face — man's heart analogies Doth lend, we'll say unhesitatingly. God's secrets, then, are studied visibly In the bright light of things that He supplies. Uasar died to live ; cruel Typhon He vanquished, then rose from death's dark grave In wondrous glory, for to Him, the Son, Amen, the unseen Father ever gave All judgment; 'tis He has power to save Or to condemn, for deeds which we have done. INVOCATION TO NATURE, etc T' 1ST, ye mountains, to my story ! streams and Fountams, Avoods and meadows, pleasant places Hear my plaintive cries resounding ! I stand Helpless and despairing, O ye graces ! Thirsting for your loving guidance, dying For your help and blessing, breathe upon me With poetic inspiration. Sighing Are tlie trees above me — whisp'ring lowly Balmy breezes fan me wearied ; soothing Sound of rippling waters lulls my senses ; Prithee tell me all their secrets, nothing Hide from me expectant — say from whence is All this mystic spell and glamour, ever Binding me with fetters naught can sever. o BACCHIC SONG. ynCOME, knit hands, and trip we gaily round thine Altar, Mighty Bacchus, " the much cheering ! " Iv>- twined about our foreheads, sunshine Beaming on our faunskins, mirth appearing In our laughter-loving faces ; singing Of thy power and glory, thy ne'er-fading Youth and beauty, Wondrous Stranger, bringing Gladness to sad hearts, the wearied aiding With fresh life and vigour. Lithe and plastic Are our movements, faster still, now circling Madly, in the chorus orgiastic. With our tresses all dishevelled, flying In the fitful breezes. Great lacchus ! By thy mystic name we pray thee " Help us ! " ^" "1^ THE FESTIVAL OF SORROW. T'HALL not my soul be thrilled with solemn awe, * When musing on the tragic fate of One Whose dying agonies the pitying sun Refused to witness ? The centurion saw Thy cruel pangs, and heard the words that tore The temple's veil in twain ; " Truly a Son Of God ! " he wondering cried ! Thy task is done, The bitter cup is drained, fulfilled the law Of peerless self-surrender. Thou didst save Others by Thine example, and, I deem, Thyself Thou couldst not save, as men esteem Salvation in their folly ! The dark grave Received Thee but in vain, glad Eastertide Shall find Thee risen — Death and Hell defied. "WAS EVER SORROW," etc. ^If'AS ever sorrow equal unto Thine, Pale Nazarene ? Thy bleeding head girt round By thorny chaplet, and Thy wan frame bound To cruel cross. The sun refused to shine On such dire griefs ! And who shall e'er divine What depths of mental torture Thou didst sound When for a while the Father's face profound Gloom did o'ershadow, and the bitter wine Of anguish, e'en to the dregs, Thou drainest? What meant that awful cry that Nature scared Through all her wide domain, that ever painest All gentle souls? Was it that Thou despaired Indeed? Impenetrable mystery Defies us here ; nor answer we descry. SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. I09 EASTER MORN. LL hail ! proud day of triumph, from the grave The Crucified did rise ; at early dawn Death's bonds were severed, and the cruel scorn Of man was falsified. All Nature gave Homage to Him whose hand hath power to save From death and hell. The robes which she had worn When her vast heart with poignant grief was torn, She casts aside, and dons her raiment brave, That's decked with flow'rets fair of varied hue, And dainty perfumes, primrose, daffodil, Sweet violet, oxahs, wind-flower too. With many another over dale and hill In richest bounty scattered. Drink your fill Of ecstasy; all glad hearts join with you ! THE CROSS. ^^HE cross no more its naked front shall rear Against the lurid heavens, a dreadful sight ! 'Tis decked with lilies now, and e'en doth wear Chaplet of violets. The rosy light Of Easter morn bathes it all wondrously. Who that had seen its cruel form when One Did hang thereon through hours of agony, Could e'er believe such awful deed was done By aught as fair as this ? Thou wondrous cross That art so dread, and still so beautiful ! Emblem of infamy, perchance, and loss, But emblem, too, of victory, thou'rt full Of meanings that this world can never know; Thou art the clue to all that's dark below. ^ THE SEA SHORE. Y LOVE to wander by thy shore, O Sea, When giant billows curl with streaming mane, Then break in thunder, and retreat again Until absorbed by others following free. The salt breeze fans my cheek, with buoyant glee I tread transparent spaces where outlain The fleecy clouds are mirrored (not in vain) As in some glass reflected wondrously. Gulls hover o'er the foam with plaintive cries, And ever and anon swoop swiftly down. Skimming the crested waves, then upward rise. Their prey secured. Huge cliffs portentous frown, Against whose battlements, with futile rage, The seething waters ceaseless warfare wage. 112 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. TO A FRIEND ABSENT, With whom I went a year ago in the ss. Victoria, ^c. Jf H me ! how time doth fly ! 'Tis but a year Since first we met, and lo, once more I pass The fertile island home, bereft, alas ! Of thy sweet company. I'll drop a tear In keen regret of pleasant hours that ne'er Shall come again, I trow — they're gone en masse. All human joys are fleeting; like the grass They spring and wither ere it doth appear That they are ours indeed; but we'll not mar The present bliss, how slight soe'er it be, With futile grief for what has vanished far From us for aye. So live we merrily. Seizing the moments as they speed along. Getting what mirth we may, till evensong ! I'^ SONNETS AND QUATORZAI.VS. II3 "VENARI, LAVARI, LUDERE, RIDERE ; OC EST VIVERE." Inscription {graffito) on pavement slab of Foriini of Thannyas or Timegad. HAT is't to live full well, with steadfast face? Is it " to hunt and bathe, or laugh and play," And dance to frantic Dionysiac lay, Nor yield to nobler thoughts a moment's space? Can this suffice our souls ? Our lives to grace With no fair deeds of high resolve — to pray At Aphrodite's altar all the day. And find our only joy in pleasure's chase ? This monstrous creed were fit for beasts, I trow, Not man ! nor can it long content his mind ; We wake from such foul slumbers but to find Ourselves unsatisfied. Naught can endow With calm, save consciousness of noble aim, Of struggle for the right, or praise or blame. 5!/j 1 1 4 SONJVE TS A ND Q UA TO RZA INS. TO NATURE. TjjTHOU doest all things well; naught e'er shall come Amiss to me thou sendest — rain and snow Or raging wind : thy seasons come and go, Ami find me ever grateful. I'm at home With all thy varied scenes and moods ; I roam Exulting in thy sunshine to and fro, Then battle with thy gales, and feel the glow Of the fierce strife ecstatic. O'er the foam Of thy unresting sea I love to bound, And find fresh health in diving through the flood And wrestling with its waves. There's not a sound Of thine but I do love it. All is good That comes from thee ; all fruit thy seasons bring ; Dear city of our God, thy praise I'll sing. ^ i. SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. II; OUR IGNORANCE OF THE UNSEEN. i^ROM the obscure we come, and lo ! we go To it again. 'Tis but a little space We ken, in truth ; the rest is gloom ; our face Some light reflects from thence with feeble glow, But who shall rashly boast that we can know Aught certain of the Hereafter? The case Stands thus : our powers are all unfit to trace So dim an outline clear, but they must grow Ere such high task they can perform, I deem. Whilst we are dwellers here 'twere doubtful gain. And would disquiet us for naught, I ween, And spoil our joys, and fill our lives with pain. Then let us rest content witli what is seen, Nor long to pierce the gloom, for it were vain. ^^ ^ :^ 116 SONNETS AS'D QUATORZAINS. THE GODS OF OLD. yp^ODS whom men of old have worshipped, flocking To your sculptured temples, where are ye fled? Have you left us in your anger, mocking At our lamentations, or are ye dead? Father Zeus, where art thou hiding, deaf to All our prayers and praises? Ambient skies Still arch above us, but they are left to Laws of matter for their guidance, wise Men teach that soulless forces govern all ! And Apollo, the far darting, hast thou, Too, no ardent votaries, none to call On thee at noontide, morn and even ? How Fares it with thee, Athene? None to fall Before thine altar, none to seek thee now ? ^ li: — '\)^ SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. W] NATURE'S LOVER. HO'LL dare woo thee, mighty mother? Peerless Art thou, and surpassing all our fancies; Whom, too, wilt thou deign to smile on, heedless Of all other suitors, with those glances Which ne'er fail to stir our pulses? Thrice blest Is the happy mortal thou dost favour; He shall nurse no rival passion, confessed Lies his soul's allegiance ; he will labour Through the long years in thy service, and hold It reward sufficient if he gain, With lifelong toiling, thy caresses, fold- Ed in his arms encircling. Not in vain We'll sing thy praises, greatest poet, bold Art thou, a gallant lover without stain. ^ Il8 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. SYMBOL OF GOD. nrriSELY did the Aj-ran make the bright blue Sky the fittest symbol of the Father ! Knowing that this earth would perish, sun too, Moon and stars would vanish ; thinking, rather, That beyond all chance mutations, the clear Blue sky, pure and silent, bright and boundless, Was the favourite habitation dear To Him who is Eternal ; nothing less Would suit our forefathers in the far-off Times primseval 1 Simple-hearted were they. Truly, yet who shall, lightly laughing, scoff At their high fancies? E'en at this day Is there any nobler symbol? Have we Aught that seems more worthy Deity ? '"TRONG Son of God, whose wondrous heart doth ^ know Both pain and sorrow, for Thou too hast worn This weary frame of ours through bitter woe And nameless anguish 'mid the world's harsh scorn ! Look Thou in pity on a wayward child, That ever from the narrow path does stray, Yet fain would turn and seek Thy face, defiled All sadly though he be. Through childhood's day Thy loving smile did deck his path with flowers ; In youth, though oft he fell. Thou still didst yearn O'er him like to a mother, tenderly ; And yet Thou bearest with him through the hours Of manhood's sin and folly ! Shall he learn To work Thy will at last, or shall he die? i^^ TO C AT PARTING. yWHIS Earth may don her dainty robes and smile All radiantly, yet shall she seem to me As widowed of her loveliness the while Thou art not here. The days drag heavily • Bereft of thy sweet presence, and our talk Is of those blissful moments that have fled, Alas ! too soon ; and lo ! where'er we walk We find a something wanting : joy is dead. Still will we look to meet again ere long, And through the gloomy hours that intervene Twixt then and now, this hope shall be our song, A light to gild our path with glorious sheen ; The sorrows of our hearts at losing thee Shall be forgot in that glad ecstasy ! ^- SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 121 MARCUS AURELIUS. /^ THOU, who 'mid the ceaseless cares which haunt Such giddy altitudes (like clouds around The mountain's rugged peak) didst dwell ! what taunt Could move thee from thine even course, what sound Of praise or blame did e'er disturb thy mind From its tranquillity ? Thou didst possess Thyself in patience, for tliou wast not blind To Life's true nature — glory's emptiness \ Content to stay or go, as Nature willed, So that thy soul were pure. Compassionate Of others' faults and failings, nobly filled "With sweet forgiveness ; instant soon or late In labour for the social weal, thy guide And stay, philosophy, whate'er betide. ^- ^- 122 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. VERNAL JOYS. 'W^'IS well to joy in springtime, when the Earth, Wooed by impetuous Zeus, doth blushing Bear her bright-robed children. Dark Winter's dearth Is vanished ; the leafless groves are flushing Now with tenderest green that charms the eye. And lends a grateful shade at fervid noon To weary man. Alas ! that it must die, And, losing freshness, fade away so soon. Learn we its lesson, then, and, whilst we may, Let our glad laughter echo through the wood ; loy we with Nature through the sunny day. Drinking our fill of ecstasy; 'tis good And worthy service, sure, as who shall say, For does man live alone by fleshly food ? !« SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. I 23 CONSECRATED FORMS AND PLACES. ^'HALL worship 'neath some consecrated fane, With forms that shrine the faith of b3'gone years, Be thought more worthy God— more sure to gain Approving answer, than our bitter tears Alone, beneath yon wondrous canopy, That with its splendour mocks man's noblest works, And in its vastness dwarfs them utterly? It cannot fail that in such thought there lurks Some fallacy ! Since all is consecrate That God hath made (or time or place), If but our soul is pure, not desecrate, And yearns indeed for Truth, to see her face, Nor time nor place can hinder but His grace Shall grant us revelations if we wait. ^ I IS THERE NO BALM? etc. S there no balm in Gilead that can heal The heart that's torn with painful memories ? Is there no wise physician, who may feel Compassion for its poignant miseries, And stretch a kindly hand to touch and cure The weary heart-ache that doth ceaselessly Torment where'er I turn? Shall I endure Such pain for aye? Good God, cannot I flee To some fair refuge, where Lethean stream Shall rid me of the past, and where I may Shake off the horrors of this hideous dream, And in sweet tranquil paths from day to day Roam joyously? Alas! such guilty stain Naught can efface, I fear ; my prayers are vain. TO THE GENTLE SPIRIT. Tj|THRICE blessed law of gentleness and love To all that lives and suffers pain and loss, To all that's weak and worn with heavy cross, To sinful hearts despairing. From above Thou hast thy mission, as thy deeds shall prove ; Thine hand doth slake the thirst of those who toss On beds of suffering, and thine it was To whisper words of comfort that can soothe The darkest death-bed scene. In truth thou art Not the monopoly of any faith, But all that vital are in thee have part, And without thee are dead indeed. One saith The fatherless and widows in their pain To visit, were religion without stain ! M 126 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. REGRET. 'HO would not wander back across the years That link us to our childhood's happy days, If but 'twere possible ? The thorny ways We've travelled since, bedewed with bitter tears, How glad if we could wake and find them all Mere nightmares of our brains— disordered dreams ! What joy to feel once more the golden beams Of innocent delight, to hear the call Of playmates in the meadows after school, Inviting us to join in merry game. In breathless race through grass that's all aflame With buttercups, whilst evening breezes cool Fan our hot cheeks refreshingly ! Poor fool ! 'Tis idle thus to mourn a vanished name. -^ SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. I27 LULWORTH COVE. ^OW placid glide the years of those who dwell In this sequestered nook hard by the sea, Far from the noisy world ! Bleak downs guard well Its solitudes, and tower impregnably Against the western heavens ; beneath them lie Quaint dwellings, ivy-grown, of fisher folk, Who reap a meagre harvest, wearily, From yon capricious deep. The blue wreathed smoke Floats on the noontide air, wliile drowsy hum Of children's voices falls upon the ear. With measured wash of waves, that mimic some Old lullaby, and bring a ready tear To travellers eye. How dearly do I love Thy clear, pellucid waters, Lulworth Cove! .^ ^1 ^ 128 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. MAN'S NATURE SOCIAL. 'E cannot live alone, hovve'er we try ; We are by nature social, bound with chains Not to be lightly sundered, that ally Us to all living things ; for all have claims Upon our sympathy. Then let us bear With others' faults and failings, feeling sure That they proceed from ignorance, nor care What man may say ! content to aye endure In silence, recompensing good for ill. Keeping the mind unruffled come what may ; Holding the Gods in reverence, until Our time shall dawn at last. Counting that day As ever present with us, naught shall fill Our soul with dread, whether we go or stay. '1^ SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. I 29 INTERDEPENDENCE OF ALL THINGS. *TTLL things compacted are, and naught may hold «/ Itself as foreign; but the world is one, Built of the selfsame matter, new or old. One God there is jDervading all, and none Can e'er escape the law that guides the whole, And blends all things harmonious. We're meant, 'Tis clear, to serve each other ; every soul Owes this allegiance, nor can aught content It short of this, or bring it happiness That's worth the name ; for here alone men find Their proper end and aim, their restlessness And misery both spring from being blind To this, in truth. The law of gentleness And tender pity makes our souls resigned. R ^^ KISMET. ?T¥Y'IS preordained when we shall die, nor can We by one hair's breadth change our destiny ; Dangers we may confront by land and sea, And death invite, yet shall we fill the span Allotted us, in spite of all ; the plan Of our brief lives is sketclied unalterably. While each event hath its priority In the dread book of Fate. But who shall scan Its awful page, and find the mystic key That doth unlock its secrets ? 'Tis denied To man, in mercy, sure ! Yet shall he see Its characters some day, when open wide It stands. Then will he learn " necessity " Did e'er control his deeds inexorably. I III 1!- SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. I3I REVELATION. f^ATH God been silent since those far-off days When prophets spake, and seers high visions saw ? And do we hold some book to teach His ways Infallibly, its words to shrine His law In all its fulness? Or shall we believe That He doth still reveal Himself to those Who truly seek His face ; that they receive Fresh glimpses of His glory, till the close Of time itself, learning yet more and more The wonders of His power ; the mystery That shrouds His nature baffling all their lore, Meanwhile, I trow ! for ever must He be The Great Unknown, no matter what's in store For us in the dim future destiny. 132 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. THE DAY OF REST. tyWiS well, indeed, that 'mid this world's turmoil, ' Its feverish haste and bitter strife, some hours Should be reserved for thought and prayer, while toil Doth, for the nonce, relax its grip ; it dowers Our souls with renewed strength, for 'tis a law That's grounded on man's inmost needs, nor can He long, deprived of this, perform his store Of daily tasks, but he will fall. The span Of his allotted years shall be curtailed. And, early feeble, he will own 'twas planned All too wisely; for what hath it availed That he has lightly broken the command, And toiled unceasingly ? Hath he not failed In spite of all, and slipped while others stand ? ^^ 7I< B THE FUTURE. UT shall we meet again, and, clasping hands, Recall each other's features, as of old. And walk together o'er the breezy wold, In converse sweet, such as the soul demands ; And exchange secrets under bated breath With eager sympathy, and joyously Recount what's happened since so wondrously We were transferred from earth by kindly Death? Ah, 'twill be so, we trust : 'neath other skies We shall retain a place within our hearts That's consecrate to earthly friends. What parts Us now, and with its stubborn wall defies More full communion, philosophies Declare shall vanish, slain by Death's fell darts. m ^: 134 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. TO RUTHIE. ^ KINDLY Heaven hath dowered me with thy love, And by such priceless boon hath made me aye Its debtor hopelessly ; nor can I prove My gratitude enough if I essay The joyous task with thousand tongues, I trow, And chant a ceaseless lay from year to year. Fair wife, whose gentle soul doth counsel now So wisely, and with soothing words can cheer Me when desponding, oft do I offend. And mar thy peace with hasty words, that pain Thy Sweet forgiving heart ! Yet dost thou tend Me 'spite of all. Nor shall my prayer be vain, When on my knees I sue for pardoning smile ; Thou'lt e'en deny my fault with loving guile ! DESIRE TO SEE THE DEPARTED. f\ YE loved ones, whom remorseless fate hath Snatched from our embraces, how we long to Hear your voices once again ! for our path Is drear and lone, whilst we mourn bereft of you ; And your dear familiar faces, which aye Beamed with sweet affection, oh ! what gladness, If they smiled once more upon us ; that day Sure would gain a glory which no sadness Might obscure. But, alas ! 'tis idle dreaming, 'Tis but futile fancy, surely; naught can Fill the gulf between us, ever seeming A dread, fathomless profound ; naught may span Its yawning chasm — 'tis but illusion all, And our yearnings have no answer, though we call. 136 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. TIME IS FLYING. YW'IME is flying, and we're drifting swiftly Down its seething waters ; night is falling, And its shadows lower portentously O'erhead. Listen to the voices calling, Urging us to rouse for battle, ere the Darkness close upon us ; come, my brothers ! Gird your armour for the conflict, sternly Vowing or to die or conquer. Others In the struggle waver ; nothing e'er can Rout thy banners, Oromasdes, beating Back the dusky legions of Ahriman ! Ever in the thickest carnage, meeting Furious charge serenely, rolling back fierce Tide of battle with a phalanx naught can pierce. ^- SOJVA^ETS A KB QUATORZAINS. I37 TO THE UNNAMABLE. ''^EAR my prayer, and breathe an answer full of Pity, wondrous Spirit, whom all mankind Under divers names have worshipped, " En Soph " Art Thou — endless, boundless — not by our mind Comprehended ; having form, and yet quite Formless, " Aged of the Aged " art Thou, Undefinable by language ; pure light Was Thy revelation ; Thou didst endow With subtle skill to build this universe Ten "Sephiroth," who emanate from Thee In orderly procession, to rehearse The wondrous scheme through its totality ; In ever widening circles they expand, \ And flash Thy splendour over sea and land. i ^___ ^♦J : f^ 138 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. DEEP MIND SOUNDINGS. Tr\ EPTHS there are, beyond our sounding, in each Soul, how mean soever, which not all our Vaunted science can discover. They teach Us the wholesome lesson that man's power Is but conditioned, early bounded After all by limitations. Pride they Cast down from its haughty throne confounded, And Humility's more genial sway Establish in its stead. So true is it, That a something in our nature still can Scorn analysis ! spite of all the wit Of scoffers, no eye shall this mystery scan ; From its depths spring all things noble, firing Us with inspirations, never tiring. LOVE OF CHILDREN. HOW me the soul that loves not children's ways, That cares not for their innocent delight And laughter-loving faces, nor e'en pays Attention to those prattling tongues, which quite Untiring seem. Then will I show Thee whom 'twere well to shun, nor hold as fri.-nd ; Look not to him for aid in hours of woe, For he's no tender sympathies to spend On aught beyond his selfish needs, I trow; His days unlovely are, nor shall he find Pure joy in bird or flower. He cannot bow The knee acceptably to Him whose kind Voice spake so lovingly those words divine : " Suffer the little ones to come, for they are Mine." •'i« EGTON BRIDGE. 'TjjT'WAS a fair spot, where one might dream away The summer hours beneath luxurious shade Of beechen groves, whilst foaming waters made A drowsy music round huge rocks, that lay Abreast their hurrying tide. Soft zephyrs play O'erhead, wooing young leaves. Beyond the glade Cluster the low-roofed cots, in wealth arrayed Of fragrant apple-bloom, through merry May. An old bridge spans the flood, its crumbling arch With ivy clustered o'er, the loved retreat Of village gossips when the day is done. Steep hills hem in the scene with graceful larch All densely clad, the haunt of birds who greet Our ravished ears at time of setting sun. GLAISDALE ^lOORSIDE. 'Tj|TlS many a year since last I cloinb thy hills ' 'With eager feet that trod the springy turf Exultingly, clambering o'er crags whence rills Of limpid waters gushed, whose sparkling surf Delicious nectar gave to trav'lers worn With summer's noontide heat. Dense bracken tower From out grey rocks, their healthful fragrance borne By gentle mnds ; their fronds a graceful bower Might form for fairy folk, I trow. But when At last I gained thy crest, and stood upon Its topmost peak, 'mid heather bloom, 'twas then Thy charms in all their fulness showed ! whilst on My spirit a glad ecstasy would steal, Such as 'mid other scenes I ne'er could feel. TO MY NEPHEWS AIR boys, whose merry laugh and winnmg ways Have bound our souls for aye with golden chain Forged by love's art, the sunshine of our days Ye are, I trow ! Life's brightest hours shall gain A superadded lustre from the glee That sparkles in those eyes, whose blue depths, lined With silken lashes, mimic wondrously The azure vault of heaven. A soul refined, That's made for noblest things, doth shine through all Your hours of play, nor can my memory A single selfish word or deed recall. Your joy seems ne'er complete unless you see That others have a share. Your prattling tongue Dispels ennui, and makes us once more young. ■I' SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. 1 43 TO THE DEAR MOTHER. row shall 1 call thee? Shall I call thee dear? Nay, rather dearest mother^ e'er for me Thou art, I trow. Ah, would that thou wert here, That I might lean upon thy breast, and be Encircled by thine arms ; then would I tell Thee all my care and pain, while thou shouldst lend Thy loving counsel, that might guide me well O'er life's precarious path, and ever tend To my soul's lasting health. We'll cherish still The thought of our last meeting, when in grief Thy sympathy did like the dew distil Upon our aching hearts, and gave relief In our distress. And he, for whom our way Was darkened then, didst thou not cheer his day ? ^: 144 SONNETS AND QUATORZAINS. TO WALT WHITMAN. THOU, whose dauntless soul disdains to sing A maimed humanity, untrammeled by False sentiments, thou didst the gauntlet fling, And challenge all to give a reason why The bard to this or that should partial be, Deeming all else unfit for song the while? Thou lovest man as Man; naught can defile The fragrance of that soul whose sanity Is sure, I trow; to it all things are pure. We know thy great heart throbs with sympathy For all that suffer pain, or wrong endure ; Thy voice did soothe the sick man's agony : Thou wouldst e'en rob Death of his prey, and lure The soul to life with thy fierce energy ! ^ I "IF BUT ONE WORD," etc. F but one word of mine might aid some soul In hours of trial, 'twere enough for me ! Though all the rest were dross, I've gained the goal I strove after. But if not e'en this plea Be possible, then nuy no single word Escape oblivion's night, but die for aye ! 'Tis true I'd fain believe my soul has stirred With tender pity for all things that stay 'Neath sin's hard bondage, or that groan with pain. Or suffer want or wrong, and wearied die ; But well I know that many a guilty stain Hath fouled mine armour, and that wofully I've failed in hour of trial. Yet I'd gain Fresh hope, if but one word slight help supply. I II i?i — Ki. 7J,< ,